Industrial espionage... that's a paddlin'.

Here's the latest work:

It's about a young woman who has been implanted with a mind control chip... only to get hacked by figures wanting to steal the plans for it. Spankings abound - just had them on my mind this week.

Here's an excerpt:

“Turn around and look at me,” Mr. McNeil commanded firmly.

I turned around. I opened my mouth to say something, but no words would come out.

“Tell me,” he continued, “Precisely how late you are.”

My eyes flicked down to my watch, and I said, “Sixteen minutes and twelve seconds, Sir. But-”

“Come here, set down your purse and place your hands on the table, palms down,” my boss cut me off, rising from his seat. He set his phone on the table.

I tried to talk again, but my mouth just hung open stupidly. I walked to him, letting my purse slide off my shoulder and onto an empty seat. Then I bent forward and planted my hands on the table’s smooth, cool surface. I turned to look at Mr. McNeil, wondering what he was going to do.

He stepped beside me and asked, “Why were you late, Riley?”

I wanted to lie, to blame it on traffic, but all that would spill out of my traitorous mouth was, “I overslept, Sir.”

“That’s very naughty,” Mr. McNeil said. His voice was still stern, but there was a bulge in his slacks. He asked me, “Wasn’t it, Riley?”

I knew my boss liked the way I looked. I’d caught a few glances checking me out. But he had never, in the seven months I’d been working here, ever made an inappropriate comment or tried to touch me.

This was new and frightening.

Eyes wide at the knowledge this was turning him on, right in front of a group of strangers, all I could do was whisper, “Yes, Sir.”

“Tell me how naughty you were, Riley.” He was insistent.

I replied, voice still soft, “Very naughty, Sir.” My fingers clenched a bit at the table at the admission. All I could think was that maybe I was having a bad dream, like the kind where you’re naked in front of your whole class in school. Maybe I would wake up any moment…

Mr. McNeil continued, “What would you do to keep your job, Riley? Would you accept a punishment other than firing?”

I looked down at the table, not wanting to think about the bulge in his pants. I had to be dreaming. There was no way he would talk like this in front of half a dozen witnesses. Feeling a little more brave at the realization, I tried to put a little confidence in my voice when I refused him…

Except that all that came out of my mouth was, “Yes, Sir.”

“Tell me, Riley,” he asked, “Were you ever spanked as a child?”

“Yes, Sir.” My mouth, no longer at all under my control, seemed determined to make me die of shame.

Mr. McNeil’s hand touched my lower back. The contact was light, barely there, but it was still unexpected enough to make me flinch. He asked me, “Do you think that spanking is an appropriate punishment for a naughty girl?”

I’m not a girl, I wanted to say, I’m a college graduate. The thought was intense enough to help me keep my stupid mouth shut even if I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

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